so don't you give up on us now
by betweentheraindrops
Summary: Ricky/Amy. Not that he really deserves it or that he even really needed it, but he'll do anything to see her smiling like this, all happy and ready to start something with him.


A/N: I can't describe how ashamed I was of 3x13. I just imagined that when RA got together, they'd be _different_ and free and not talking about the future, living in the present and all that. Whatever, I just rewatched it again and it wasn't as bad as I originally thought.

Even if the writers of the show don't want them to be happy, I do. So yeah. Fluffy.

I started this before 3x12, so it's AU after 3x11. Minor spoilers for 3x13 added in that you probably won't even notice. So maybe this is OOC, but most of my writing is and I like the way I write the characters way more than the show writers do.

Reviews are love.

_Could I forget the look that tells me that you want me?  
And all the reasons that make loving you so easy.  
The kiss that always makes it hard to breathe;  
The way, you know, just what I mean._

_- I Just Can't Live a Lie, Carrie Underwood_

.. .. ..

Ricky carries John from his (Amy's) room into the kitchen, smiling as John squirms in his arms.

"Mama," John says as they enter the kitchen.

Ricky leans down, let's John walk on his own, handing him his little orange sippy cup. "No John, she's coming home in a few days."

John points to the side door. "Mama."

Ricky turns around toward the door, his eyes widen, as he sees her come through the door.

"Hey John, mommy's home."

She sets down her luggage and her French horn case, looks at Ricky for a slight second.

John smiles his adorable smile as she picks him up and holds him to her closely, patting his back and smiling because she's just missed him so much.

Amy holds him on her hip, looks up at Ricky. She's home early, a few days even. And he looks... It's certainly not happy (that part makes her heart break a little), and it's not angry. She can't even decode how he looks right now.

"What're you doing here?"

She's taken aback. Of course she is. How could she not be?

"I, uh, came back early to see John. I've missed him."

Ricky looks away from her, somehow expected himself to be happier when she came home. He's guilty, she can see it now. "Look, I, uh, gotta go. I'll be by later to get my stuff."

"Okay. I'll, um, see you later."

With that, he grabs his keys from the counter and heads out the door, closing it behind him.

Amy walks further into the kitchen, sighs because she didn't imagine that was the way he would greet her when she came home.

But then the side door opens again and Ricky pops his head in, saying, "Welcome home, by the way."

It's not really welcoming and he doesn't even smile, but it's _something_ and she's the one that smiles.

Amy replies with "thanks" but he doesn't even hear it because he's just closed the door again.

She still kind of loves that he was the first person to say it anyway.

.. .. ..

"So she's back?"

"Yeah, she's back."

Ken Fields sits back in his chair, looks at Ricky with his arms crossed.

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't know. Guilty, I guess." Ricky leans forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees.

"Why?"

"I slept with someone after I came home."

His therapist looks at him. "Why would you feel guilty about that?"

"I don't even know. It's not like we're in a relationship or anything."

Dr. Fields nods. "Do you want to be?"

Ricky doesn't answer, but his therapist knows what the answer is anyway.

His past dictates the man he is today, but they both know that there's only two people that could actually change him.

"She said that we had to be exclusive if we were together and you know I can't do that."

The therapist sighs, shakes his head. "No, I don't know that. Ricky, who we are and what we do isn't dictated by what we think we're limited to. You're capable of so much more than prostituting yourself for pleasure and treating people the way you think they're treating you."

Ricky rolls his eyes. "I love sex. Nothing's gonna change that."

"And that's understandable. Is Amy not offering that up to you?"

"Well, yeah. If I never sleep with anyone else."

"How is that a bad thing? Look, you need to admit to yourself and to Amy that you need her. And no, not just for sex. You need her to change you, make you a better person."

"Well I already know that," he mutters.

Ken nods again. "Good. Then I think you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

Dr. Fields make a mark in his notepad, doesn't even look Ricky's way. "I think you know what."

.. .. ..

Amy walks through the hallway of her house after putting John down to sleep, baby monitor unnecessarily in her hand. She smiles when she steps into the kitchen and sees that her mom made chocolate chip cookies before she went to bed, note beside the plate telling her how happy she is to have her home.

She goes to the counter, stuffs a cookie in her mouth and drinks it down with a glass of cold milk she gets from the fridge.

It's only her first few hours back and she's exhausted and somehow can't sleep to save her life.

Amy steps away from the counter, sets the monitor down, starts walking toward the living room, ready to divulge herself in Titanic and movie theater popcorn when the side door opens.

It's Ricky, straight from God knows what place, standing in the doorway.

She smiles, says, "Hey" and he replies with the same and with a smile she hasn't seen since New York.

He's wearing a grey shirt that shows his form and he seems to get better looking every time she sees him. Granted, that was only two hours ago but it seemed like forever.

She's in her pyjamas, light blue thermal and polka dot pants and he won't tell her, but he thinks she looks adorable. She's gorgeous (always has been), but she's somehow an ethereal beauty when she doesn't wear makeup.

And he's missed her (won't tell her something that bold) and he's been tired of counting down the days until she got back (shut up, she said she did the same thing).

So they're tired of waiting and it's about damn time anyway.

Amy crosses the room, meets him in the middle, and presses her lips to his.

He kisses her with an equal amount of force, wraps his arms around her, pulls her up the slightest bit.

She leans up when he tugs her closer and her elbows come to rest on his shoulders and somehow he's lifting her up, her mouth never leaving his, legs coming to wrap around the back of his knees.

It's passionate, lingering, tastes like _finally_ and feels like forever.

Ricky sets her on the counter, releases his hold on her so his hands are just above her waist, fingers grazing her waistband.

He pulls away a little, takes a breath, says "you're back".

"Yeah, I'm back," she says as she pulls away and looks up, rests her arms on his shoulders with her hands at the back of his neck.

He looks up at her, she's happy and he's happy and it's all just a little surreal.

"John missed you," he tells her with a knowing smirk.

She gives him a lazy smile, loves the way they tell each other things like this. "Missed him too."

Ricky's finger brushes her lower lip, looks at her with a look of lust, smirking because she looks likes she's just been kissed the hell out of. And she had been. Totally.

She looks at him and she's matured, but she still loves all the trappings of fun and he thinks her smiling like this is her summed up; beautiful.

He smiles, but then he remembers why he even came back over here in the first place and his smile falters. "I have to tell you something."

He looks guilty and looks down.

"Oh God, you didn't sleep with Adrian again, did you?" she asks with a slight chuckle.

He looks up at her, murmurs, "Not Adrian."

Her arms come off his shoulders, asking, "Who did you sleep with?"

"Doesn't matter. I just figured that since we talked about-"

"God, it wasn't Ashley, was it? We talked about this and that's _so_ twisted. Do you realize how wrong that is? You slept with my sister!"

"Jesus, I told you I wouldn't go there. I didn't sleep with your sister. It was some random girl. Believe me, I wish I could take it back."

"You also said that you'd stop sleeping around," she says.

"And I will. I'm really working on it."

"This is it, okay? I'm not Adrian or Grace or whomever. I'm not gonna let you screw me and _anyone else_" she looks at him pointedly, "over."

"I won't, alright? Jeez, it's not like we're in a relationship or anything."

He looks at her after he says it and she's biting her lip.

"Unless," he starts, "you wanted to be in one."

She lays her her wrist on his shoulder, hand coming to the back of his neck. "I'm not sure what I want."

Ricky nods, understands. "When are we ever?"

_We_. She likes the sound of that.

She chuckles, brings him in a little closer. "But I do know that I want to do this."

And she kisses him. He smirks against her mouth, loves the way they fit when she presses herself against him.

They pull away and he looks at her, can see forgiveness in her eyes. Not that he really deserves it or that he even really needed it, but he'll do anything to see her smiling like this, all happy and ready to start something with him.

"Yeah, me too."

And that's that.

.. .. ..

It's John she's missed the most. Definitely. Of course. (Maybe.)

.. .. ..

Amy's leafing through a magazine when her mom walks into the kitchen.

"Hey hun, did you put John down for his nap?"

"Yeah, I forgot how hard it was. It's been a long time since I've done it."

Anne nods, goes behind the counter. "Have you talked to Ricky today?"

She looks away, smiles a little. "Yeah."

Her mother looks at her, can see that she's really falling for him.

"And Ben?"

She only nods.

Amy had talked to Ben earlier in the day, met him at school in the bleachers and officially ended it. He was upset, obviously, but understood. She'd moved on, even he could see that. She'd matured greatly in New York and even if he couldn't be with her, he still wanted to be in her life. Friendship is still something she wants (there's finality in her tone, saying that they'll never be what they were before) and she knows he and Adrian will need help with everything involving their baby girl. He said that he can learn to love Adrian the way he loves her and he looked away in the distance as he said it. Ben's starting to believe it, she could tell.

And she found herself genuinely happy for him. For their little girl, for their family. It's all so picture perfect, she sometimes can't even believe it.

But then the sound of a door opening brings Amy out of her thoughts and she smiles and sits up.

He comes in, "Hey."

"Hey."

Anne can see the gleam in her daughter's eyes. "Hi Ricky."

He slightly waves, smiles as he does.

But she can sense that she's the elephant in the room, so she backs away from the counter, heads toward the stairs. "I'll leave you two alone."

Ricky nods, walks closer to Amy. "Oh wait, do you think you could watch John tonight?"

Mrs. Juergens nods, says a "yeah, sure" as she walks away.

Amy smiles from her barstool as he walks toward her. He leans down, kisses her softly and she puts her hands on his shoulders when they part, putting weight on him so she can sit on the countertop again like she did the night before.

"So what's happening tonight?"

He smirks. "I'm taking you out."

"You're taking me out?" she asks cutely.

"Yeah," he shrugs. He's never taken anyone out before (technically there was Grace at the batting cages, but that was almost two years ago, so it's nearly irrelevant).

"Well, what if I say no?" she asks teasingly.

Ricky smirks. She's getting really good at this. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she says with a smile before leaning forward and kissing him again.

.. .. ..

He picks her up around eight from the side door in the kitchen (it's kind of their thing now and he likes it that way).

Anne and George are behind the door, pretending that they're not spying the way they always are.

Ashley's in her room, pretending she doesn't see the two of them get in his car, smiles on both of their faces.

.. .. ..

"So where are we going?" Amy asks as Ricky turns the radio down.

He smirks. "You'll see."

She smiles when their hands touch as he's changing the gear shift.

.. .. ..

He drives to a secluded barn slash shed (she's not really sure what it is) and gives Ricky a questioning look when the car pulls to a stop.

"Just wait," he tells her.

But then she hears clicking behind her and something rotating and all of a sudden there's a strobe of light hitting the structure in front of them and Amy's agape and suddenly no words can form in her mouth.

Ricky gets her a can of soda from the cooler in the back seat as well as some twizzlers (which he knows she loves).

"You, I-"

The opening credits of Dumb and Dumber appear before them and she smiles wide.

Amy looks at him as he's getting popcorn from the bucket between them, which is still hot and he has a crunch bar in his other hand, knows she likes chocolate melted in popcorn.

And he hands the bucket to her, loves the way she's smiling right now.

"Sorry the movie's not, uh, roman-"

Amy shakes her head, leans toward him. She puts her free arm around him, her hand around his neck. "No, no. It's perfect."

Then she kisses him and he makes it last. She pulls away, turns her head towards the movie and breaks up the chocolate bar into pieces before dumping them into the bucket.

But he can feel her eyes on him, smiling at what he's done and for some reason, it makes him feel like he's in love with her for the very first time.

.. .. ..

They get to the scene where Lloyd trades the van for the scooter straight up and she nearly dies from laughing.

"And totally redeem yourself!" They both cry.

The two of them smile at each other and they share this look, like they knew what the underlying meaning is. Ricky totally redeemed himself tonight. He showed her with this date, their first date, that he can be the guy that woos her. He can be the guy that is sweet and thoughtful and comes up with totally kickass date ideas, yet be totally amazing with the projector and snacks. It's like their own little movie theater and she just loves it (and him but only a little).

"I love this movie," he remarks as an afterthought.

Amy nods, turns her head back toward the movie, saying, "Yeah, me too."

But then she looks at him and he looks at her and it's because they both know what each other meant anyway.

.. .. ..

A few weeks later, her family (minus Ashley who thinks spending time with her family is some sort of punishment) takes a few days longer than a weekend long trip to Santa Monica.

Ricky tags along because Amy and John are going and he really doesn't want to not see them for any amount of time. It makes him sound whipped, but he doesn't really care (alright, he so does, but that's just the way he is and only so much of him can change).

Ashley stays home, alternating between staying over at Adrian's and Griffin's. They're the only ones that still talk to her, really.

George and Anne decide that they need to take two different cars, so George drives Anne and the babies in their midsize car and Ricky drives Amy and the luggage in her SUV.

.. .. ..

The drive should take roughly three hours, but for the SUV, it arrives two hours late because Amy kept on seeing places she wanted Ricky to stop. The things she claims to need tend to be of little importance to him but she's happy and smiling and it's just the two of them, so he gives into her most of the time (not just on this trip, more like their whole relationship).

"Ames, we _just_ had lunch."

She gives an exaggerated groan. "So? I want Cold Stone ice cream." _Now, bitch_, she says with the way her mouth is curved, all tight and sexy and he just wants to kiss her really badly at the moment. He always does, but she looks really good right now, flimsy tank top with barely there daisy dukes and cheap dollar store flip flops she can't get enough of.

"We're gonna get there at five if we keep stopping along the way," Ricky says with narrowed eyes even though she can't see them through his aviators. Hers are matching and she loves that they are. The two of them are more alike than she thought.

But then she pouts this pout that she knows gets her what she wants half the time. He rolls his eyes, but smiles as he does it, asks her as he veers off the highway onto exit 90, "What flavour?"

.. .. ..

"What the hell took you two so long?" George asks.

The two of them are only just arriving, after hitting a few gift shops and grabbing a bite to eat at In-N-Out. They don't have one at home and all they have is Dairy Shack. Ricky looks at Amy, gives her a knowing smirk because she doesn't want to admit that In-N-Out is so much better than that goddamn Dairy Shack she seems to love so much.

"Nothing. We were just out," Amy tells him with a shrug.

Her father places his hands on his hips, looks at Ricky with narrowed eyes. "Out?"

"Yeah, out. What do you think we were doing?"

George grunts before walking away, leaving the question unanswered.

Amy's eyebrows raise, looks to Ricky. "Is that conversation over?"

He shakes his head and shrugs, picks up her luggage, retreating to the room they're sharing. "This family,"

She snorts and follows him to their room. "Can I have the bed by the window?"

"I don't care," Ricky says absentmindedly, unpacking, facing his bed.

Amy walks over to him, takes off her flip flops, climbs on top of his bed and places her hands on his shoulders. "You don't care?"

"Yeah, I don't care," Ricky says, putting his hands on both sides of her waist.

She leans down, kisses his smirk away, jumping and slightly falling on top of him, legs locking around his waist.

He catches her, doesn't let himself fall onto the bed right behind him, kisses her harder when she loops her arm around his neck.

Amy pulls away before he does, keeps one hand cupping his face. "Good. Because that bed's the bigger one anyway."

.. .. ..

Amy's by the kitchen counter, sipping her orange juice, when he walks out of their room.

"Morning," he greets her lazily, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

She nods in his direction, "Hey."

"Where's your dad?" Ricky asks, grabbing the milk carton from the fridge, knows that Anne goes out for a run every morning.

"Right here." George says behind them. "Just in case you two were in the mood to do anything... _kinky_."

"Kinky?" Amy asks as she turns around, eyes widening, snorting.

He takes a seat in the living room, turns the channel on the tv from VH1 to ESPN. "Yeah, kinky. It's bad enough that you two are sleeping in the same room."

"Dad, stop saying kinky. It's disturbing."

George remains on the couch, looks over at them once more before turning his gaze to the scores from the Dodger game the night before.

Ricky chuckles, opens a box of Fruit Loops and pours milk into the blue bowl he's grown to be accustomed as his own.

He walks around the counter, takes a bite of his cereal. Ricky sets his bowl next to Amy, puts his arm around her shoulder, reaches for a grape and pops it in his mouth. She giggles when her head is in between the crook of his elbow and his shoulder and he smiles as he feeds her a grape as well.

George looks over at them and smiles, thinks, despite how much he vocalizes his concerns, that they really are good together.

.. .. ..

"Mom, do you think the boys are okay with dad in the condo?" Amy asks, adjusting her aviators on the bridge of her nose.

Anne looks down, digs her toes deeper in the sand. "I'm sure they'll be fine, Amy. Your father can't come back out here after what happened yesterday. They'll be alright."

"How stupid do you have to be to not put on any sunscreen when it's like 100 degrees out here?"

Her mother chuckles, takes a sip from her bottle of water. "I don't know."

Amy closes her eyes, returns her earbuds to her ears, presses play on her ipod, hums along with the sounds of Carrie Underwood.

She gets through two songs before she feels someone tap her knee; once, twice, again.

Pressing pause, she asks, eyes closed, "What?"

Ricky moves sand with his feet so hers are fully covered. "You should go in the water. It's not cold, I promise."

"I will. Just not now," she says, tries not to stare at his abs for very long.

It's no use. Her eyes are just drawn to them and he smirks at her because she's totally checking him out. "Come on," he grabs her wrists, pulls her up from her beach chair.

And she lets him. His American Eagle trunks sit low on his waist and his hair is perfectly rumpled and wet and she sometimes can't believe that he's _hers_.

They get into the water and he gets in easily, but she takes longer because he was fucking _wrong_ and it's cold as shit. "I hate you," she says as she shivers.

Ricky walks toward her and leans down, lets her jump on his back, giving her a piggyback ride as they delve further into the water.

They get out into the water and she's telling him something about how her friend from New York is supposed to call her back today and he just nods, likes hearing the sound of her voice.

"So you hate me, huh?" he asks, when he jumps a wave and she laughs because it's just that damn fun.

Amy smiles, puts her chin on his shoulder, teases, "You know it."

.. .. ..

Anne flips through her magazine absentmindedly, watches the two parents in the water, having fun with big smiles, like the typical teenagers they never had the chance to be.

.. .. ..

Amy walks out of the water, shakes her hair out of it's tangled bun, making her strands blow in the slight breeze.

Ricky follows behind her, laughs roughly to himself because it's becoming a reoccurring theme in their relationship and he doesn't know it yet, but it'll be a theme between them the rest of their lives.

She gets to her beach chair, haphazardly wraps her towel under her arms, around her body, tries to dry herself off before throwing her towel back in her bag. Her phone beeps in her unnecessarily big bag, meaning she has a new voicemail and Amy tells her mother and her boyfriend that she'll be right back, it's a call she needs to take.

"What's that about?" Anne asks.

Ricky shrugs, digs through the small blue cooler at his feet. "Somethin' 'bout next year's program in New York or whatever."

"Hmm," she nods, adjusts the sarong at her waist a bit.

They sit there in silence for a while, decide that they'll eat in tonight and agree that Anne will make the garlic bread as long as he makes his signature lasagna.

Amy returns after walking the shoreline, talking on the phone to Megan or Molly (Ricky's still not sure which one it is).

Her mother nods her way, "What'd she say?"

"Not much. Something about one of the instructors is switching the room they teach in or whatever. Nothing majour," Amy says flippantly, puts her phone back in her bag.

"Ahh. Will the program still be in the same building, though?"

She nods, attempts at fingering through her tangled mess that she used to call hair. "Yeah, everything should be the same."

Ricky looks up at her, thinks she looks hot in her lavender bikini, trying to get rid of the tangles in her hair.

They share this look, whenever either one of them talks about New York, a look that's remembering and lingering and holds everything that happened between them _between them_ and they wouldn't have it any other way.

.. .. ..

He's just finished ninety-five percent of the work on his lasagna when she strolls into the kitchen, looking as beautiful as ever. She's wearing some ratty old off-white t-shirt and tiny black shorts with white tube socks that have red stripes at the top of them and he thinks he wants her more than he ever has. And that's saying a lot (he's always kind of wanted her).

"Hey, you saved the last part for me!" she squeals, jovially clapping her hands together.

He gives her a look, then realizes. "Oh, yeah. Well I thought you liked that so- yeah."

Amy walks over to where he's standing by the counter, opens the bag of shredded cheese and sprinkles mozzarella all over the finished product.

Ricky grabs two potholders and lowers the dish into the oven, sets the timer and turns toward her and she's smiling. "What?"

She shakes her head, laughs, "No, nothing. It's nothing. Thank you."

And she won't tell him, knows it would freak him out and/or scare him off, but she loves the little things he does for her, like make sure he doesn't sprinkle the cheese on the lasagna because he knows she loves doing that.

He nods and gives her a weird look before leaving the kitchen, doesn't want to miss some sort of documentary on the history of drums or something like that.

Amy chuckles to herself, he's only this totally innocent guy that's practically obsessed with drumming when he's around her and she loves that he opens up to her, isn't as afraid of them as he once was.

.. .. ..

It's after dinner when her mom goes up to where Amy's half-sitting and half-laying on the couch. She moves her feet so her mom can sit, flips through channels before settling on some random reality show.

"What's up, mom?" she asks distractedly.

Anne leans back on the couch. "I was wondering- is it too late for you to switch instruments for next year's program? I mean, I was talking it over with your father and-"

She's halted by Amy asking, "What are you talking about?"

"Well I heard that you're not really excited about the French horn anymore and thought maybe you'd like to try something different."

Amy's agape, looks around the room. "I'm not switching. I like it, it's just not going to be my career or anything."

"Oh, but I thought you only chose it because of me," her mother says with a confused look on her face.

Amy sits up. "Wait, what? Who told you that?"

"Ricky. Yeah, when you were in New York, he told me all about Peter and the Wolf and-"

"He told you that? He, he remembered that from- from band camp?" she asks, brow furrowed, heart beating wildly.

Anne shrugs. "That's what he told me."

Amy sits back, looks to the ceiling fan spinning around. "He remembered."

.. .. ..

Ricky's on the balcony when she goes to look for him.

He's sitting alone out there, watching the sun set over the horizon, looks at the peaceful waves.

"Oh hey, I-"

Ricky doesn't get a chance to finish his statement because she's sitting on his lap automatically and kissing him the way she's never kissed him before. He smirks against her when she nibbles on his bottom lip a bit and holds her on him, isn't ready to let go of her (he never really is).

She pulls away, look up at him with big eyes.

"What was that for?" he asks, slightly bewildered.

Amy looks at his lips again, then up at his eyes. "You remembered."

"Remembered what?"

She smiles. "The Peter and the Wolf story. You remembered."

He looks down and then up again at her, smiles an adorable smile. "Yeah."

She wants to say something more, something that will equate to how big of a deal she thinks this was of him. But she can't think of anything and all she can think about is how perfect the moment is and how she's ruining it by not having anything of her own to make it perfect, can't remember anything right now but how amazing she thinks he is.

He just smiles again at her, rubs his hand along her back, turns toward the sunset and she looks up at him again, rests her head on his shoulder and thinks that this, _them_, watching the sunset together is perfect in itself anyway.

.fin.


End file.
